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if they want to, they will by alwaysyou28 (M, domestic fluff, slice of life, percabeth taking care of each other)

I'll be there in a while - T, high school au, so sweet

a key on the chain (take it with you and run) by @justapoet - new Rome au, so sweet there are pets!

three-point field goal by @justapoet ( M, modern au, basketball player/architect percabeth)

dontcallmebabyagain by monquey - E, college au, fwb

"Drunk on a Sunday Afternoon" from my debut poetry collection Clean Afternoon Love

Much Love,

percy has every reason to expect the worst, but he doesn't. he wants to give up, but he can't. i think abt that scene in ttc, where percy says the music sounds "a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too," bc i think that's percy's entire character. he's realistic, he knows the odds are grim, he knows that he should be expecting the worst, he sees and responds to the harm others do, but he can't stay cold and bitter. bc no matter what he does, he can't stop finding the world beautiful.

“We just came down here to talk. We fell asleep. Accidentally. That’s it.”

“Kissed a couple of times…”

i don’t want a wife.  i want to be a knight of the kingsguard.

how many times had he said it growing up?  day in, day out, over and over again–a reaction to whenever daella asked who he would marry, her or rhae; a reaction to his cousins who all asked him what he could possibly want for himself since he was so far down in the line of succession that he couldn’t hope for even his father’s seat, much less the throne; a justification as good as any to make people understand why he had to travel the seven kingdoms at dunk’s side.  

he’d never been bookish like aemon, and he had no particular desire to join the faith, but he was quick and clever and not a bad hand with a sword and from what he’d been told that should be enough to earn him a white cloak.  i won’t be prince aemon the dragonknight, but it’s foolish to hope i would.  no one can be as good as prince aemon the dragonknight.  i just need to be better than most everyone else.

i want to be a knight of the kingsguard.

“you’re young,” his father had told him when he’d declared he never wanted to marry.  “let yourself be young, but don’t pretend you shall always be young.  that is folly.”

but aegon had been convinced that he’d never wish to marry.  his travels with dunk only solidified that he wanted to be a knight, for ser duncan was a true knight, and a good one.  he did his best to serve, and that’s what aegon wanted too–to serve, to do his best, to protect those in need.  he didn’t need a wife for that–he needed spurs and a targaryen name, and he already had one of those.

i don’t want a wife. 

he met her first when he was nine and she was very annoying.  she always had her hands on her hips and was bossing him around and telling him he was stupid because that’s not how things were done at raventree hall.  they’d argued, and dunk had laughed and said if she’d been a boy they’d have been wrestling in the dirt, but that you couldn’t wrestle in the dirt with little girls–much less noble little girls, especially if you were a targaryen pretending you weren’t a targaryen.

it’s lord bloodraven’s blood.  he was born of a blackwood, after all, he’d convinced himself heatedly when they were riding away from raventree hall.  betha hadn’t apologized for how she’d treated him–not really.  “forgive me, prince aegon, but you were being stupid,” she’d said, arms crossed over her chest.  but if it was lord bloodraven’s blood, that much aegon had not seen when betha blackwood had arrived at court, for lord bloodraven barely acknowledged her presence.  

“lady betha.” aegon bowed slightly.  “welcome to court.”

“my prince,” she said, and her voice was rich and musical and when she swept her skirts in a curtsey and smiled at him something was different.  it was a cheeky smile, now.  the smile of a woman who had known him for a stupid boy but had seen that he’d grown.  “you have hair now.”

aegon felt his lips part in surprise.  he had half a mind to parrot her words back to her, that’s not how things are done in king’s landing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to.  he doesn’t like how things are done in king’s landing, the way no one seems to care about anything but themselves.  he found himself blinking, for betha had cared–she’d cared for the smallfolk, and cared that ser arlan who’d knighted dunk was properly commemorated in pennytree even when no one else had.  instead he said, “i do.  i’ve had hair these past five years.”

“it suits you,” she said smiling.  “though i was fond of your egghead.”

“fond?”

“in memory.  easier to remember stupid egg than that i’d called prince aegon stupid.  for you were stupid.  very stupid.”  she was smiling still, and her lips were quite pink and her head was cocked ever so slightly to the side, like a dog’s and aegon only noticed that he was doing it too when his hand rose unconsciously to his hair to pull at one of his curls.

“aren’t we all stupid when we’re young?” let yourself be young, but don’t pretend you shall always be young.  that is folly.  

“oh i never was,” betha replied airily.  “you were stupid enough for both of us.  but that was what i liked about you–that you were so very stupid.”

“you liked something about me?” he asked.  he’d meant it to sound dry, uncaring but it hadn’t quite worked and her eyes flickered and the easy air that she’d been speaking with seemed to slip.  she seemed younger, suddenly, nervous.

“oh yes.  yes, i think i did.  you cared.”  she looked about the hall.  no one was paying attention to the two of them.  no one ever paid attention to aegon except dunk.  why should they? he’d never sit the throne, and would like as not never even marry.  i want to be a knight of the kingsguard.  why did it feel more like he was trying to convince himself now?  

“i’m glad to see you,” betha said after a moment and she still looked young, and nervous.  “i know you may not believe me but…but i don’t know anyone at court except you and i fear not having a friend here.  melantha always described this place as more lonely than winterfell.”

aegon swallowed.  he could name every person at court, and the members of their house, and who they were feuding with, but he was quite sure the only friend he had here was dunk.  he’d never thought about it that way before.

“well so long as you promise to stop calling me stupid, i might be convinced to show you how things are done in king’s landing.”

betha rolled her eyes.  “i knew i’d be a lost cause.  you found the one thing i shall never be able to stop doing.  it’s habit by now.  i suppose it was too much to hope for a friend.”

“A boy,” he said. “She’s had a boy. Thick thatch of dark hair and a pair of lungs like that old blacksmith in Gulltown.”

Dunk grinned too, and clapped a hand on Aegon’s shoulder. “Congratulations, my prince.” Aegon made a face. Aegon did not like it when Dunk called him ‘my prince,’ no more than he liked it when Dunk called him Aegon.

But his little egg-headed squire wasn’t a boy any longer. He was a man grown, a prince, and now a father. “And how fairs Princess Betha?”

“She sleeps,” Aegon said at once. “I thought for a moment she’d strangle me during the birth, but when it was over she was too tired.” He gave Dunk a look that was half a smile, half a grimace. “I’d heard women say that childbirth is painful, but I don’t think I’d ever seen Betha scream like that. She’s not one to admit when she’s in pain.”

“No,” Dunk agreed, remembering their first meeting as children. “No, she’s not.”

“But the maester says she should make a full recovery, and that for her it was a comparatively easy birth—whatever that means.” He shuddered. “It didn’t look easy to me.”

“She got through it, though,” Dunk said. “And you’ve an heir now. Have you told your father?”

“Not yet,” Aegon said. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Dunk gave him a bemused look. “Me? Why? I care for you, but the boy’s not my—”

“Betha and I are to name him Duncan.”

Dunk froze, truly froze, lungs and heart stopping at once.

Aegon reached for his arm. “It’s not a Targaryen name, or even a Blackwood one, but it’s his name all the same. You’re a truer friend than any I’ve had, and a brother to me at times—not to mention the three times you saved my life.”

“Four,” Dunk said automatically.

“Three,” Aegon corrected. “The time in the Neck doesn’t count.”

“Four,” Dunk repeated, his voice thick. “My prince, you do me great honor.”

“Perhaps. But it was the love I bear you I wished to honor.”

oh i've been waiting for this one

canon verse

do you have to let it linger - peculiarblue; annabeth throughout pjo, emphasis on physical touch

notes on laundry detergent - peculiarblue; post tlo, super sweet percabeth being in love

a permanent temporary - gwenstacynecromancer; moa, the night before annabeth leaves for her quest

arizona sky; really fluffy then percy ptsd from gabe

windows we leave open - theannabethjackson; quiet moments from senior year

graduating class - loveliet; annabeth and percy moving away to college, her relationship with her dad

even on the bad nights - catchsparks; melancholic college percabeth

au

and at once i knew, i was not magnificent - herecomesthepun; high school au, deep into annabeth

home is where I want to be (but I guess i’m already there) - percivaljackson; fake dating, annabeth character study with her family. annabeth bible #tome

(the first time ever) I saw your face - percivaljackson; star wars, percy has amnesia. the percabeth au bible

those little town blues - percivaljackson; annabeth can see ghosts

Because every prince needs an heir. 😉